


Not a Dream

by Katlyn1948



Series: Never Sleeping Again [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Happy Birthday, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Other, Sequel, Tension, definitely not a dream, she wants him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katlyn1948/pseuds/Katlyn1948
Summary: Arya see Gendry for the first time in months and they have a...conversation?
Relationships: Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: Never Sleeping Again [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695427
Comments: 13
Kudos: 115





	Not a Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obsessivewriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivewriter/gifts).



> First and foremost...HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANGELA! (AKA ObsessiveWriter) this is my gift to you! I hope you enjoy...
> 
> Also, I highly recommend you read "Never Sleeping Again" as it literally takes place right after that one. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

She couldn’t stop picking at the loose string handing on the hem of her jerkin. It was a welcome distraction to the fanfare that was now parading through the gates of Winterfell. The riding party wasn’t large compared to that of Daenerys Targaryen, but there certainly were a number of people that Arya did not recognize. The tall slender frame of a woman who looked eerily like Gendry rode in behind him, fashioned with a sword at her hip and a dagger on her ankle. She looked a few years older than the new appointed lord, and Arya had the sudden fasciation with learning who this mysterious woman was.

She was sure it wasn’t his Lady Wife, for Sansa would have mentioned it. Then again, perhaps there were things that even her Sister Queen did not know.

Ser Davos was one of the few faces among the envoy that Arya recognized, and she was delighted to see the old Onion Knight advising the new Lord Baratheon in his growing endeavors.

As the rest of the envoy trickled in through the gates, Arya couldn’t help but pull her gaze from the surrounding people to land on him. She watched as he pulled his horse just a few hundred feet from where she was standing and swing his leg over the steed to land on the frozen ground with grace. The type of grace she thought him incapable of.

Yet, there he was, striding towards her and her regal sister beside her.

As he began to pace towards them, the feelings that bubbled within the pit of her stomach only grew stronger with each step he took to reach her. It had been nearly six moons since she last laid eyes upon him, yet he looked just as broodingly handsome as ever. And although she preferred his loose undershirt with the sleeves rolled up to his mid forearm and the leather wrist straps to keep the flying embers of the forge from scorching his skin, Arya couldn’t help but swallow when he glided into Winterfell wearing fine leathers and majestic furs. His gruff appearance was gone, and instead stood a man who had come into his own, standing tall and proud of the person he’d become.

Arya couldn’t help but feel the heat that pooled between her legs and she tried, ever so carefully, to shift her stance as to relieve the burning need of want within her lower belly. This new Gendry did little to dull her hunger, in fact, it only seemed to grow knowing she could have two for the price of one.

“Queen Sansa,” He said sternly as he bowed with an ease, as if he was a highborn all his life. He rose slowly, turning to Arya. There was a slight smirk as he then bowed to her saying, “Lady Arya.”

Arya couldn’t help the crimson that flooded to her cheeks. It was an innocent response; a greeting really, yet it held so much more meaning than she cared to admit. It also surprised her for her used the proper way to call her ‘Lady,’ and not the baseborn term ‘mi’lady’ she was so used to hearing.

“Welcome back to Winterfell, Lord Baratheon.” Sansa kindly said.

Gendry gave her a warm smile, briefly flicking his gaze towards Arya’s direction as he did so, “It is a pleasure to be back, your Grace. I see you have made some improvement to the outer walls. The last time I was here, it was nothing more than ruble.”

“I wish we could say the same about our outer gates. They need a skilled blacksmith’s touch.” Sansa smiled, making light conversation.

“I’ll see what I can do during my time here.”

“Nonsense, you are our esteemed guests. You mustn’t concern yourself with petty little things.” There was an innocence behind Sansa’s words, but Arya could see that it still cut deep within Gendry. He made a living as a blacksmith in the desolate streets of Flea Bottom. Before his legitimization, it was all he knew, all he cared to be.

“Sansa…sorry, your grace, if Gendry-I mean Lord Baratheon insists on spending a few hours in our forge, then let him. I see now harm.” Arya tied to ease the tension she saw building in Gendry’s stance. She hated seeing him so uncomfortable, no matter what her conflicting feelings were for him.

Sansa glanced between here sister and the newly appointed lord. There was a history between them that she couldn’t quite place. “Very well…if Lord Gendry insists.”

“Of course, your grace. I can start at first light.” Gendry eased a bit and gave a thankful smile toward Arya.

“Wonderful! Now that we have that in place, let me have my maids show you all to your chambers. Lord Gendry, I hope you do not mind Jon’s old chambers. He seldom uses them when he visits.” Arya’s faced burned even brighter. Jon’s old chambers were nestled just beside hers at the very corner of the long hall. When they were children, all the boys were put on a floor, while Arya and Sansa’s childhood chambers were on the floor above. Now that she was comfortably moved in Robb’s old chambers, Gendry’s occupied space would be just a few feet from hers.

“I’ll take whatever chambers you assign me, your grace.” Her smiled.

“Very well…Layla, please escort Lord Baratheon and our other guests to their chambers,” Sansa ordered the chambermaid. “Oh, and Lord Baratheon, please call me Sansa. Your grace is much too formal.”

“Of course…. Sansa, so long as you call me Gendry.”

There was a friendly smile exchanged between the both of them that Arya couldn’t help but notice. She shouldn’t have felt jealous, but at that moment, she had a sudden urge to cut between the both them, obscuring their views.

“Before I forget, I would like to introduce someone special,” Gendry motioned for the mysterious woman behind him. She eased herself off her horse as if she had been doing it for years and glided towards where they were standing. Arya couldn’t help but notice her astounding beauty. She had jet black hair with bright sapphire eyes. Her hair fell in slight waves down her back, framing her face. Arya envied her beauty, and for a brief moment she was transported back to when she was a child and all the horrible names she used to be called. It had been so long since she felt insecure about herself, yet as Gendry beamed at the woman and marveled at something she wish she had, it reminded her that she would always be Arya Horseface.

Arya braced herself for what Gendry was about to say. Surely, he would introduce the world to his new bride, the Lady of Storm’s End. It would come as a blow, considering the passionate kiss she and Gendry shared the night they though they would die. She took a deep breath as the mysterious woman softly grasped Gendry’s gloved hand. She bowed to Sansa, then with a knowing smirk, she bowed to Arya.

Arya tried to keep her composure, even as her hand gripped the hilt of her Needle tighter than she intended. There was no doubt that she knew who Arya was and that toying smirk she had plastered on her face only taunted Arya more.

“Sansa, Arya…this is…my sister, Mya Baratheon, newly legitimized by Queen Daenerys. Turns out I am not the only Baratheon bastard left in Westeros.” He chuckled.

Arya let out the breath she was holding, relieved to hear that the woman was his sister, not his lover. But it didn’t mend the fact that Mya knew of Arya and who she was to Gendry. Surely, he must’ve told her about their time together as children, just as she had told Sansa. Though, judging by the smirk she gave Arya, she knew much much more than Arya cared for her to know.

“Welcome, Lady Mya. We are delighted you could join your brother on his endeavor here to the North.” Sansa said polity.

“Thank you for having me, your grace. I’ve never been this far north, so when my brother announced he was to visit, I jumped at the opportunity to join him.” Mya smiled.

“Well, now that we are all introduced, let my maids show each of you to your respective chambers. Let you all rest for a bit before joining us for a feast in the Great Hall. We’ve prepared the finest northern cuisine.”

The chambermaids made quick work of escorting the small envoy to their chambers, with a few of the northern soldiers showing Gendry’s fighters to the barracks.

Sansa and Arya slowly made their way back to Sansa’s high chambers. As soon as they were passed the threshold, Arya slammed the door shut and bolted it, so as no one would disturb them. She has a few choice words to say to her sister that she rather not let the rest of the castle to hear.

“Are you fucking senile! You placed Gendry beside my chambers!” Arya burst. She could not believe the audacity of her sister that she would deliberately place Gendry just a few short feet away from her.

“Stop being so dramatic, Arya. I placed Gendry in Jon’s old chambers because it was the best suited for him. So, what if it just so happens to be beside your chambers? You have a lock on your door and if he were to try anything, he would be hanged on the spot.” She simply stated, brushing off her sister’s harsh words.

“Gendry would never do anything like that, and you know it. Just like you know how I feel about him.”

“Oh?” Sansa perched a perfectly thin brow, feigning innocence. “You have feelings about him? Please share.”

“Don’t play dumb, Sansa. I told you what happened.” Arya crossed her arms over her chest and huffed her way to the chair placed in front of the large direwolf fireplace. She flopped down and began to watch as the embers of the early morning fire was beginning to extinguish.

“No,” Sansa crossed her chambers from where she was standing and went to sit across from Arya in the second chair adjacent to the one Arya was sitting in. “No, you told me about your past…not about the kiss in the storage room.”

Arya’s eyes shot up to her sister’s pale blue ones, completely aghast at her revelation, “You know about that? How?”

“I have my little birds, just as Varys has his.” She waved off. “Now, I’m not blind. I saw the way your face went when I mentioned Gendry’s envoy coming. You nearly ran out of my chambers when I said it. Not to mention the way your face flushed bright red when Gendry called you ‘Lady Arya.’ I nearly burst in a fit of laughter.”

“That’s not funny.” Arya chastised her chuckling sister.

“My point is, I know you like him. That’s why I placed his chambers beside yours…and it really is the best one for him. Jon left a few items behind that I think he will find useful.” Sansa smiled.

Arya groaned and sunk deeper into the plush chair, “This is a nightmare, Sansa. I am so conflicted for how I feel for him. Did we have a passionate kiss filled with so much intensity, I nearly burst through the top of the grain room? By the bloody seven, we did…but I can’t help think it was only because we were about to die.”

“Then find out! We have a feast tonight. There will be a lot of ale and a lot of wine, which I’m sure will make for a few loose lips. One always tells the truth when ale fills their bellies.”

Arya shook her head, “No, Gendry won’t get drunk. He can’t, not even after we won Winterfell. He says he doesn’t want to be like Robert.”

“Then you get piss drunk and tell him how you really feel.” Sansa shrugged.

“What? You think I can’t tell him sober?” Arya felt slightly offended. Sure, she was never one to share how she truly felt and would often need a few pitchers of ale to help loosen the tension, but she found it insulting that her sister didn’t believe she could do it.

“I know you can’t. It took me time to relearn who you were, Arya, but no matter how fearless you are, or think you are, there will always be something that terrifies you. It just so happens that expressing your feelings is it.”

Arya knew here sister was right. It had been hard for her to express herself and how she felt, even as a young child. A lot of times, her feelings were dismissed as childish or outlandish; never taken seriously by anyone but Jon and her father. And even when she was brave enough to let the people, she loved how she felt, she would get broken down and pushed aside. Gendry’s initial rejection when they were children had panged her heart. She had opened herself up to him, only to have him rip out her heart. When she got to Bravvos, there was no time to share her feelings, for it could have gotten her killed. Letting the people she trusted know how she truly felt terrified her more than death itself.

“Fine,” Arya conceded, “but there better be ale at our high table…and lots of it.”

The sun was just sinking behind the horizon when the feast meant for Gendry’s envoy began. Stark bannermen and soldiers, along with Baratheon fighters gathered within the Great Hall. There were bounds and bounds of conversations mingling through the air when Sansa announced her arrival. The room quieted and the men and women of the crowd stood to welcome their queen. Arya was promptly behind her, with Bran being wheeled be them. Davos then made his way to the high table and took a seat at the far end, followed by Mya and finally Gendry.

Being as he was the guest of honor, Gendry sat on Sansa left side, with Arya perfectly placed on her right. Their proximity was close, but Arya was grateful that her sister was situated between the two of them.

Everyone took their seats as soon as Sansa lifted her goblet of wine and toasted for the food to be brought out from the kitchens. Stacks of hen and ham flowed out, followed by sweet breads, fruits, and steamed vegetables. Pitchers of ale and wine were shortly dispersed, and the crowds began to feast, preoccupied with who was at their table to care about what happened at the high table.

Sansa had reserved the last of jams to be severed solely at the high table. It was gift from Lady Tyrell when she heard about Sansa’s reign over the north. There were five jars, each containing a different flavored jam that paired perfectly with breads or cheese that Sansa had specifically picked out just for them to divulge in. It was commodities like these that made Arya enjoyed her life as a highborn lady. The rare sweet jams were hard to come by, even in Highgarden, yet here she was indulging in such bliss.

“This is delicious,” She mumbled as she stuffed yet another piece of bread with an apricot jam lathered on the slice. She had never had apricot, for they didn’t grow in the north, and groaned in delight as the jam hit her tongue. “You must give Lady Tyrell our thanks.”

“I must agree with Lady Arya, your grace. Lady Tyrell sent you a wonderful gift. Why, I haven’t had an apricot jam since my smuggling days.” Ser Davos smiled as he to popped another slice of jammed covered bread into his mouth.

“And how about yourself, Gendry? Do you fancy the jams Lady Tyrell sent?” Sansa asked.

Gendry nodded, “They are enjoyable; however, I am not a fan of their sweetness. I prefer something tarty.”

“Then you must try the lemon cakes! They are sweet, but not too overbearing, and have just the right amount of tart!” Sansa nearly squealed. It was no secret her favorite indulgence was a lemon cake. There were often times where Arya would find her sister in the kitchens sneaking a piece meant for their supper.

As the night went on, so did the feast, and a few of the Stark soldiers had gathered their instruments and began playing tunes for the crowd to enjoy. A few of the chambermaids had been swept up by drunken men to swirl around the hall along to the music. It was ghastly sight to see as they wobbled and toppled down to the floor in fits of laughter.

Arya couldn’t help but chuckle at the current couple dancing. The young man had flushed cheeks, no doubt from the amount of ale he consumed, and the young chambermaid giggled her way through the whole dance. By the time they made their way back to their beginning stance, the young man was near ready to top over, only to have the young chambermaid push him upright and plant a study kiss on his cheek.

“Care to dance?” Gendry towered over Arya; his hand outstretched for her to take. She hadn’t noticed he was standing beside her when his deep voice broke her trance on the young couple. Arya raised an eyebrow at Gendry, letting him know that asking her dance was a bad idea. She already had a few goblets of ale in her and her feet were already feeling unsteady. If she were to go down to the floor to dance, it would be an unseemly sight.

“She would love to!” Sansa intervened before Arya had a chance to turn him down. Arya turned her gaze on her sister, throwing daggers in her direction. She knew Arya had two left feet and would make a complete fool of herself. She didn’t have time to protest, when Sansa began pushed her from her seat and into Gendry’s waiting arms.

“I must warn you, I’m not very good.” Arya warned. She couldn’t stop the blush that was creeping to her face as she and Gendry descended from the high table.

“And you think I am?” He chuckled.

Gendry and Arya made their way to the makeshift area where other men and women were dancing away. She felt as he pulled her close to him and rested his hands on her waist. A lively tune was being played and they both began to hop to the rhythm, prancing around the floor in fits of giggles and laughs. She knew they looked absolutely ridiculous, but she didn’t care, for she was enjoying the close proximity to Gendry. The last time she was this close to him, she was nearly ripping off his cloths before a shrewd horn interrupted what could have happened. 

They hopped a few more times around the Great Hall before the tune shifted into something much slower, calming their lively dance.

She could feel him pull away slightly, but she held him firmly in place. They were so close, that all she had to do was lift on her toes to whisper gently in his ear, “Walk me to my chambers? We have to talk.”

There was a visible gulp that came from him as he reluctantly nodded.

Arya took hold of one his hands and pulled it from her waist, gliding him through the crowds of drunken men and women. She knew how to slip away from a crowd without being seen, but with a man as large as Gendry, she was sure that a few people may have noticed their sudden departure. There would be mills of gossip come the morning, but she didn’t care. Let them talk, for she knew that whatever were to happen between her, and Gendry was theirs and no one else.

They walked back silently to their wing of the castle; just the echo of their footsteps on the stone floor. They maintained a fair distance as they walked side by side. Arya only dared once to glance up at him as they made their way through the castle, only to see that he too was trying to avoid her gaze.

They finally made it to where both their chambers were stationed, stopping right in front of Arya’s oak door. There was an orange gleam coming from the crack between the floor and the door, indicating that the working chambermaid has already lit the fire within her chamber.

“It was good to see you.” Gendry broke the silence between them.

“You as well.” Arya swallowed. “I enjoyed our dance.”

“Likewise, well, I suppose the day has worn you out, I’ll leave you be.” He began to turn on his heal, but Arya grasped at his arm before he could go any further. 

“Care to join me? I have a little bit more ale in my chambers, we can drink that and converse.”

“You think it is wise, with the gossiping chambermaids?” He warned.

Arya shrugged, “Let them gossip.”

Gendry smiled and nodded, following Arya into her chambers. She swiftly latched the door behind them before moving towards her fireplace. There was a small table perched between two chairs that faced the fireplace, much like Sansa’s chambers. The only difference being the size between the two. She grabbed the fresh pitcher of ale, pouring two goblets for her and Gendry. She outstretched her arm, holding the goblet out for him to take.

“Thank you,” He said as he took a seat in one of the chairs. Arya followed suit and sat in the opposite chair.

They sat in silence, slowly sipping at their ale, enjoying the company of one another.

The air in the room wasn’t uncomfortable; in fact, it was the first time Arya felt at ease in her own home. There were times where she felt like she had to pretend to be someone she was not just to fit into the world her sister had created. It was true that she trained the young men and women willing to fight for their queen, and that did bring her sense of belonging, but when it came to bannermen and daily duties of being a princess (because unfortunately she was one) it tended to become all to much.

With Gendry, she didn’t have to pretend. She could be completely and wholly herself. 

“So, you wanted to talk to me about something?” Gendry finally asked, breaking their silence yet again.

Arya nodded, “I just wanted to see how you’ve been. It’s been near six moons since we last spoke. I wanted to see how highborn life is treating you.”

Gendry sighed, then chuckled, and then took a sip from his emptying goblet, “It’s going. There is a lot to learn, but nothin’ I can’t handle.”

Arya smiled at his escaping Flea Bottom accent. He tried to hide it, but it seems as if the ale was bringing it to light. “That’s good to hear.”

“And how ‘bout you? How has Winterfell been treatin’ ya?”

“Uh…good. I miss the adventure…but otherwise, good.”

Another silence fell upon them. This time filled with more tension than Arya cared to admit. She could tell there was an uneasiness to his stance, but it wasn’t one of concern, more like restraint. She could see his muscles bulge from his fine leather jerkin. They would flex every time he happened to glance her way, showing the amount of restrain it took to keep him firmly in place.

As she began to study his features in their newfound silence, Arya began to notice the subtle things. There was a small scar just above his upper lip and his slicked back hair had one misplaced cowlick tucked at the nape of his neck. She noticed the burn marks on his fingers, no doubt from he many years he had working in a forge, and a scar on his right hand.

All the small things she noticed had caused her to flush, heating her body more than usual.

It was becoming increasingly warm within her chambers and she could no longer hold out from removing her leather jacket and jerkin, leaving her in nothing but her thin tunic and breeches.

Gendry flushed at her sudden removal of garments and tried to advert his gaze from staring at her unbound breasts through the thin cotton of the tunic. He could see the dark circles poke through the white fabric, causing his breeches to become just a little tighter than what they were that morning. He was hoping that the ever-growing member within his breeches wouldn’t make itself known, but the longer he stared at Arya’s breast, the harder it was for him to contain his excitement.

Arya wasn’t oblivious to the way Gendry shifted in his chair. He had swiftly deposited the empty goblet of ale to the table between the chairs and brought his hands to cover his lap. She had wondered why he had become so fidgety, until she looked down at her tunic; her nipples shining brightly through the thin fabric.

“Gendry?” she softly said, “Gendry, please look at me.”

He slowly lifted his gaze to hers and looked into her glassy eyes. Her face was flushed, and he couldn’t help but notice her lick her lips with want. Slowly, she nodded, giving him all the confirmation, he needed.

She saw him bolt from his seat, lifting her from where she sat and crashing his lips to hers.

Their kiss was filled with a hunger they both could not quench. Six moons of craving and wanting had broken their dam of control. She wanted his lips on hers, she wanted to taste him; to soak up every inch of him.

This wasn’t some heated dream she had dreamt the night before; this was real. He was real. She could feel him and taste him and drink him in.

Soon, more layers began to shed.

Arya was quick to discard his jacket and jerkin, leaving him in only his tunic and breeches. She grasped at the thin layer of fabric, ripping it out from his breeches and throwing it across her chambers. She could feel his bare chest below her fingers as she glided her hands up and down, pulling him closer to her.

His hands found the hem of her tunic, pulling it off in one swift motion, only breaking their kiss for a short second. She was only left in her breeches, completely bare for him to see. He pulled back to marvel at the sight before him before peppering kisses along her jawline, feathering them down until his mouth came to capture her perk nipple.

Arya groaned at the sensation, digging her fingers into his thick hair. She could feel him flick the nub with his tongue, enticing a loud moan to come from her lips. Soon, his lips were back on hers as they stumbled their way to her featherbed.

The ties of Gendry’s breeches had loosened, thanks to Arya’s quick work, and began to slide down. She could just see the top of his cock as it tried to break away from its prison. The sight made her mouth water and her mind to haze. She knew what was going to happen and she wanted it more than anything, but she had to let him know of her inexperience. Despite her better judgement, she gently pushed Gendry off of her, letting his eyes meet hers.

“I-I want this…but I have never done this before. I want it to be you; always you. Seven hells, I even dreamed about it on occasion. But I need you to know that I am unexperienced.” Her voice was small, and it shocked her at how vulnerable she was.

Gendry nodded, “I’ll be gentle and if you want me to stop, just say so.”

Arya smiled, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

Gendry leaned down and gave her a long kiss before pulling away. She watched as she scatted gentle kisses all over her body, cascading down her torso until he came to the top of her breeches. He began to slowly undo the ties, pulling them one by one until they were fully loose. Hooking his fingers, he pulled them down, bringing them to her ankles and tossing them aside along with her boots.

Arya felt as he gently nudged her thighs apart, trailing kisses on the inside of them before she felt his warm mouth engulf her mound. The sudden sensation and enticed a gasp from Arya, followed by a visceral moan she didn’t think she was capable of making. She could feel his tongue lap at her folds, giving her pleasure her fingers were never able to provide. Suddenly, a fire within her lower belly began to burn, and she could feel herself cresting over the peak.

“Gendry I-I…ahhh, fuck.” She huffed as she plummeted from her high. Her breath was ragged as her lungs tried to bring back air within her small body.

Gendry rose from her thighs, crawling back up her body to plant a rough kiss to her lips. She could taste herself on his lips, and groaned with want, “Please…I need you. I want you inside.”

“Are you sure?” He asked her and Arya nodded.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He nodded and positioned himself at her entrance, slowly making his way inside of her.

Arya knew that this could be painful. She had heard the stories from the whores in Bravvos and it had thrown her off from ever wanting to experience anything like that. But as she laid there with Gendry slowly entering her, she understood that it mattered on who it was with. She trusted Gendry and knew he would never do anything to hurt her.

She felt a slight pressure as she pushed deeper into her.

The pain was there, but it was tolerable, and she tried everything in her power to relax. As Gendry pushed in all the way, completely sheathed within her, she could feel her walls clench around his member, cajoling a moan from Gendry.

“Arya, love, I won’t last long if you do that again.” He breathed.

Arya smiled seductively, “Then I suggest you move, Lord Baratheon, because at this rate, I think we both won’t last long.”

“As mi’lady commands.” He smiled back, pulling out of her ever so slightly, so thrust his cock back within her tight walls.

They both panted and moaned and quickly found a pace that worked for them both. As Arya began to relax, Gendry dared to go a little harder, slamming deeper and faster within her. He then reached a hand down to her mound and began to massage the sensitive bud of nerves, making Arya squirm.

She began to feel the familiar fire in her belly as Gendry went faster. She could tell that he too, was about to release. Both were on the precipice; close to falling over the edge.

“Ahh, Gendry I-”

“Arya!”

Both were hurdled into the depths of bliss as their names fell from their lips.

Arya could feel Gendry’s cock twitch within her, spilling his seed in her womb. At that moment, she didn’t care about what their coupling would entail or the repercussions of his growing seed, all she had time to think about was how blissful she felt within his arms; slick with sweat and their combined mixture.

She couldn’t help but smile as they both drifted into a deep slumber, reminding herself that this was definitely not a dream. 


End file.
